No Regrets, Yet So Many
by HP-Forever-XX
Summary: "Sirius, This will probably be, without a shadow of a doubt, the strangest letter you've ever received, and if you are indeed reading this, many years from now, then I'm sure you'll remember exactly why I'm writing this." Sirius Black writes a letter to his future self from Azkaban, listing his hopes and regrets.


**No Regrets, Yet So Many**

Sirius,

This will probably be, without a shadow of a doubt, the strangest letter you've ever received, and if you are indeed reading this, many years from now, then I'm sure you'll remember exactly why I'm writing this. Though you and I both know it is unlikely you'll ever actually set eyes on this, I live in hope that someday you will, and you know exactly why. Hope is all I have left, and I live in hope because I've lost everything else that mattered to me. Wherever you are whilst you're reading these words, all I can long for is that you no longer live in hope, but in happiness. If you're reading this then it means you no longer need hope, because if you're reading this then you have freedom, and somehow something must have gone right.

But I know that won't happen. All the hope in the world won't set me free. I am never leaving.

Merlin's beard, when did I get so boringly _poetic?_ I've been here a day—just one bloody day—and I'm already spouting nonsense. I don't know why I'm doing this, to be honest, but it's not like I have much else to do, so I thought I'd go for it.

One letter. That's all that's permitted at Azkaban. Just one letter. One opportunity for communication before I go insane, or _die,_ or something equally as horrible. Just one letter to ever talk to somebody again, and perhaps my last opportunity to tell somebody the truth. And who am I writing to? Who am I using this golden opportunity on? My bloody self!

And why is that, Sirius?

Because I am all I have left.

There is nobody left to believe in me but myself. The cold, harsh truth is that James and Lily are dead. So who does that leave me with? Remus? Dumbledore? But what would honestly be the point in reaching out to them? Even if by some miracle they actually happened to believe me when I told them the truth, what is there that they could actually do to help me? They can't visit, they can't prove my innocence, and they sure as hell can't bust me out of this godforsaken place. Nobody escapes Azkaban, and even though I am as pure and innocent as freshly fallen snow (don't laugh—you _know_ I am!), I certainly won't be leaving. Nobody escapes from Azkaban, and I won't be the first.

Nope. I am destined to rot away in this filthy cell for the rest of my life, which, despite my athletically toned body (_don't_ laugh) and my strong will of character, will probably be tragically short. I am doomed, you hear me? DOOMED!

Enough of the dramatics, though—believe it or not, this letter is very serious, Sirius (HA!). I don't know how much longer I have left. It could be days, months—years, even.

My biggest fear is that I won't die at all. My biggest fear is that I will live out my life for at least the next fifty years, slowly going insane and festering away in this putrid cell, missing out on the things that should have been the most important parts of my life. My friends will grow old without me (not that I have many left), and I know I didn't have a very promising life ahead of me, but now I can't even be a part of theirs.

In some ways, it's not even that I'll be missing out on sharing those experiences with them, but that they will live out their lives thinking I _am_ what I've been accused of being—a murderer, a psycho, a _traitor_—of which I am none.

Well, the lines are a bit blurry around psycho, but if I am insane then it's only because Azkaban has driven me to it. This one day I have spent here has been complete and utter hell.

If I am to die here then I have few regrets. The life I have led up until this point has been well spent, in my opinion. I may not have been the best academically but I did alright. I may not have been the best son or brother, but that doesn't matter to me. Leaving my family and never looking back was the best thing that ever happened to me. I am proud to have been a Gryffindor, a prankster, a womaniser, an Animagus, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and above all, to have been a Marauder.

So, no, I do not have regrets. I do not regret messing around at Hogwarts—it brought joy to people. I do not regret not taking my studies more seriously—it would have been a dull waste of time. I do not even regret all those times we taunted Snape—it is still my firm belief that he deserved it.

The only regrets I have are for the future. I bitterly regret that I will never see my best friend again. I gave everything I had to protect Lily and James, and it was all for nothing.

Ah, I suppose that may be the one thing I _do_ regret from my past. I regret ever trusting that spineless vermin I once called my friend—Wormtail. I hope, for his sake, that he is dead by a long and torturously painful experience, or even better, by his own hand. If he isn't then he better wish that he was, because I will kill him with my bare hands if I ever get out of here. I will devote my life to hunting him down and ripping him to pieces for what he did. Not for what he did to me (framing me and getting me locked up for life), but for what he did to Lily and James. I will kill him if it is the last thing I do, and _then_ you can call me both a psycho _and_ a murderer. But at present, of that crime, I am completely innocent. So far…

But anyway, getting back to what I was originally saying about my regrets for the future. I regret that I will never see my godson again. He will be raised by God knows who—certainly not by his parents, and certainly not by me. He has been robbed of his childhood, and it isn't right at all. It didn't matter that I was never going to have children of my own (not intentionally anyway) because I was getting to see my best friends' son grow up. I could have taught him things, taken him places, told him all the old stories about me and his parents. I don't know what will happen to Harry now, but I know that whatever does happen will not be just. He deserves parents, he deserves a family, and he deserves to be loved in the ways that I never was by _my_ family. It isn't right for a child to have been orphaned so tragically and at such a young age. Yet still, I hope for him, too.

I don't know if I ever would have gotten married. It seems highly unlikely to me. It isn't that marriage isn't appealing—I can think of _many_ benefits of having a wife—and eventually, well after living out my youth, I suppose I could have settled down with somebody. The problem is this: I wholeheartedly believe there is not a single woman out there that could ever be to me what Lily was to James. I got to experience everything between them.

Well, not _everything_, thank the Lord—I did give them _some_ privacy.

What I meant, is that I watched their story from the very beginning. I saw them meet; I saw them argue; I saw them slowly but surely fall in love. I stood by their side as they graduated from Hogwarts, as they signed up to be Aurors, as they said their vows at the altar, and as they held their newborn baby in their arms for the first time.

I would never have told James this because he would have accused me of being a soppy girl, but I do believe that I got to witness the most beautiful love story this world has ever seen. Well, it would have been _more_ beautiful if Evans had been less shouty and had bigger breasts, but that's beside the point...

I watched them evolve from strangers to classmates, to friends, to something between love and hate, to partners, and then to parents. I have never seen a pathetic sod so hopelessly in love with anybody as my best friend, Prongs. Their love was one-of-a-kind, out of reach for us mere mortals, and certainly not attainable for somebody like me. So, yes, I _might_ have gotten married eventually, but I honestly don't think I could have found a soulmate like Lily and James did, so that's why it never overly appealed to me. I now regret, though, that I will not even have the opportunity to.

Good grief, is this depressing or what? Sirius, my good pal, if you are indeed reading this and it means I didn't actually die in here, then I'm assuming you must be very close to killing yourself after reading this drastically boring and dismal letter. I think I'm going to wrap this up now because my hand is starting to hurt.

Future Sirius, who are we even kidding? You're not going to read this; you're _never_ going to read this because there is no way I am getting out. Even if I had the will to somehow escape, what would be the point? The world is at war, two of my best friends are dead, and one of them is now a filthy little traitor (I suppose it would be worth it to break out and kill him though). I have no prospects for the future; I have no family; I have no job; I'm not marriage material and I'm not father material. I suppose I still have the Order—and I still have Remus? Though my furry little pal is unlikely to forgive me if he and the rest of the world have heard about my humungous (_false_) act of betrayal...

Well, it's kind of miserable here. The food sucks, it's cold, it's downright _depressing_ (though that's probably because of the Dementors), and the entertainment and company are very poor. In the sense that there isn't any! Though I think there's a guy who could give me some cool prison tats so that's something to look forward to. If I'm being accused of being a ruthless, vicious murderer then I might as well look like one!

Anyway... I know it's pointless but I'm sending this letter to No. 12 Grimmauld place in the hopes that I could one day break free, or even be set free, and find myself back home. _Not_ that that place is my home—it's even more of a dump than Azkaban is—but it's the closest I have, and as the rest of my family is probably dead then I guess I'm the only one who'll ever be going back there. Sirius, if by some miraculous twist of fate you _are_ reading this then let me say this: I hope you are happy. I hope you have forgiveness, and love, and all that other soppy crap that people want in life, because even though you probably don't deserve it, I really don't think I deserve to be in prison.

The first thing I want you to do is track down Pettigrew and kill him—if he isn't already dead, that is. Then you have to find Remus, or Dumbledore, or whoever's left of the Order. Find Harry, too—make sure he's happy and that he gets the life he deserves. Well, give him the best life he could possibly have, given the circumstances. Also, providing this isn't something ridiculous like fifty years into the future, maybe you should give Marlene McKinnon a call? She was insanely hot!

And so, this is it. To sum it up, I have no regrets, yet so many. I have so much hope, yet so much despair. I also have, if all goes to plan, some really badass tattoos!

Good luck, future Sirius, even though you'll never _actually _read this.

Best wishes, and kind regards, and all that crap,

Younger, more attractive and ruggedly handsome Sirius (who's to say what prison will do to me!?)

* * *

**Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2—Round 6**

**Team: **Holyhead Harpies  
**Position: **Captain  
**Task: **Write a letter to yourself from a chosen character's viewpoint (Sirius Black)


End file.
